


Arcana: The Lovers

by Oldine



Series: Birches Grow [16]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 14:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10901685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oldine/pseuds/Oldine
Summary: These stories have a purpose in my series, but they take absurd to a new level. They're not comedies.(First and Fifth stories) Jack gets a call from an old friend's sister. He doesn't remember her. That leads him and Ianto into another Lewella situation.Other stories include Idrissa, John, as well as Luc and Eryn.





	1. Chapter 1

1

An old stone well waited in the center of a small meadow with a hanging bucket and a rope coiled over a pulley. Ianto Jones followed a cobblestone path through the tall grass and stopped to look over the edge. A salmon circled. Coins glittered underneath. The water swirled as the fish swam until it formed a small, female form. A voice rippled from the fountain. “Follow the path through the garden to the fountain. Ask the hazel trees for their secrets.”

A blue light flickered filtering upward through the coins. The water rippled, and the figure splashed down on the surface before the light exploded outward. A burst of blue filled the meadow. When it cleared, the well was gone and a transparent woman paced.

Jack’s immobile figure appeared at Ianto’s feet. He dropped one knee and reached for Jack’s hand.

“You’re free,” the angry ghost declared.

Ianto moved between her and Jack. “Let him go.”

She stopped suddenly and glared at him. “Why? He won’t stay with you. He doesn’t take men seriously.”

Energy tingled over Ianto’s skin, and his anger swelled. “Let Jack go."

The ghost crossed her arms. “He married a woman, regretted not marrying another, and Gwen is simply a matter of time.”

Blue light danced over Ianto’s skin and radiated outward. “That is Jack’s past. I am his present and future.”

She eyed the light. “You would challenge me and risk Lewella’s wrath?”

“Let him go!”

“No!” 

Ianto reached toward her, and the area exploded in blue.

 

** Monday, January 18, 2021 **

Jack Harkness drove Ianto’s new car on the M4 headed toward London. The drive would take hours. While motivated by a case, it would give them some time alone. Since Christmas Eve, life had been one shock or crisis after another. The flashbacks during the hub attack were short thankfully. Anger flared instead of jealousy or paranoia. Jack hoped it was progress.

Security remained tight, but they were no longer living at the hub. With Mrs. Purcell and Wynne vacationing in Nova Scotia, and Teleri and Sarah staying at Four, the stress lessened. Dmitri agreed to spend more time with Michael until the PTSD symptoms faded.

“Where are we going?” Ianto sounded agitated.

“A small town north of London. The mayor called about a cemetery.” 

“How do you know him?”

“Her. I knew Rina Finney’s brother Reg in the 1980s.” Jack gave it a moment. “He died evacuating an embassy.”

“You stayed in touch?”

“No. Rina saw the video of Braith Roberts and the Weevil. The article included a picture of me.”

Ianto turned back to the window. Everything from Dawn’s death to taking care of Michael took a toll. He missed Kylia more. The note she sent about her wedding had the opposite effect. 

“We could take a couple of days in London.” Jack set a hand on Ianto’s leg. 

He hesitated. “I need to turn your office into a room for Michael.”

That was a bad idea, Jack thought. “A problem with Ken?”

“Yeah.” Ianto set his hand on Jack’s. “I think he’s leaving John. Something changed after the coma.”

If Ken left, John would be a mess. “Michael will be old enough for daycare soon. He can go with Trevor to your sister’s.”

“He’s a baby, not an inconvenience.”

Jack waited a few minutes. “What’s wrong?”

“I saw Lisa’s sister and her daughters at St. David’s Mall. The girl Kylia looks like is seventeen or eighteen.” Ianto squeezed Jack’s hand.

Jack wondered if he’d misread Ianto’s anger. A year earlier he lashed out because he was mad at himself. “Okay.”

Ianto hesitated. “There is this waitress at the pirate restaurant. Jestina. She’s taking university classes toward a business degree.”

“Jestina’s cute?” Jack asked trying to follow Ianto’s train of thought.

“Yeah.”

“Is that why you’re angry?” Jack softened his tone.

“I get on your case about flirting. You don’t realize you’re doing it half the time.”

Which indirectly answered Jack’s question. “Do you want kids?”

“It’s not an option.”

Jack wasn’t sure how to respond. 

“I actually flirted with her.” Ianto set his head on the car window.

“I flirted with Niall this morning.”

“The seventy-year-old who moved in with his grandson next door?” Ianto asked incredulously. 

“Yeah. He was out for a walk this morning.” Jack nodded. “He says I’m too young for him.”

“I didn’t need that image.” Ianto closed his eyes.

“The next time we go to the restaurant, you can introduce me to Jestina. She’ll flirt with me instead.”

“I’d probably be jealous.” Ianto sighed. 

“We could go with what Nessa would suggest.”

Ianto made an unhappy sound. “We are not picking up women.”

Jack slid his hand up Ianto’s leg. “We could spend a couple of days in London. Dinner, a theater performance and a nice hotel.”

 

2 

After an early lunch at a small restaurant, they met the mayor at a small cemetery that wasn’t on the map. Ianto Jones knew as Jack drove through the gate there was a problem with the energy. It reminded Ianto of a nightmare from weeks ago. He’d had a few bad ones since Dawn died.

“The energy is off.”

Jack released his seatbelt. “Lewella?” 

“No. Closer to a death omen.”

“Another exploding cemetery?”

“No. I think something woke up.” The disquieting feeling felt similar to Roberts’ B&B and increased outside the car. It wasn’t Lewella or a death omen. The research found a lot of superstition but nothing solid. All of what he knew about Lewella came from experience. 

“Be careful.” Jack strode across the frozen ground toward Rina Finney and her dark-colored sedan. 

Ianto looked around at the aged tombstones. The remains of an old stone wall near the edge of the clearing drew his attention, and he walked the opposite direction. It made him think of a well although it didn’t look like one. A large crow eyed him, perched on a nearby tree.

Without thinking, Ianto brushed his hand over the light gray stone. Energy flowed up his arm and triggered memories of a strange dream. A fish told him to “ask the hazel trees for their secrets.” He had no idea what that meant. 

 

Jack Harkness waited while Rina stared at him. They hadn’t seen each other in forty or fifty years, and he looked nearly the same. He didn’t remember Reginald Finney and had to look him up after Rina called. From what Jack could piece together, they met during a Torchwood project that coordinated with the military. He thought they’d been friends rather than lovers and hoped Rina didn’t expect him to answer questions.

“Jack.” She sounded as tired as she looked. “Thank you for coming.”

“It’s not a problem.”

“I guess I should begin with the basics.” Rina sighed. “The history of this cemetery is uncertain. It’s likely several people died here. There are a lot of ghost stories and urban legends told by bored teenagers or ghost hunters.” She took a moment. “Vardy, a family in town, are blamed for crimes spanning two hundred years. People claim the Vardy are involved in witchcraft. Historical documents suggest it started with a love triangle that ended with three people dead.” She shook her head. “Anything strange, or immoral, is the Vardys’ fault. Ghost sightings, unexpected crimes, crop failure, marital problems.”

“They’re different?”

“No. It’s superstitious bullshit. Ethel Vardy is in the medical journals for having an immunity to two major diseases. I don’t remember which ones. She was a nurse that survived working epidemics. After realizing she wouldn’t get sick, she volunteered to work on the wards. She was quarantined more than once for fear she was a carrier.” Rina paused. “She was blamed for illness outbreaks. Even after her death. People actually believe she made a pact with the devil for protection.”

That was puzzling. Nurses working epidemics were saints. “Why?”

“Ignorance.” She exhaled. “I asked you here because of a hole. It looks like something big dug it’s way out. I found out this morning that James Vardy and his girlfriend Kensleigh Windell disappeared the night before the hole appeared.”

“Romeo and Juliet.”

“I hope not. I don’t want a pile of bodies.” Rina took a moment. “I contacted a couple of Reg’s military buddies in London. Spooky has two kids at Scotland Yard. I’m hoping Jimmy and Kensleigh are safely in a motel or with friends somehow. They’re eighteen. I just want to know they’re safe.”

Jack nodded. He didn’t remember Spooky from his research. “One of my investigators has contacts in law enforcement. I need details to send her.” 

Rina nodded.“What worries me is Kensleigh’s father. If he found out about the relationship, especially if it’s sexual, he could have reacted extremely. Windell and his friends are looking for the kids armed with hunting rifles.”

The timing made him wonder. Ianto said something woke up. It could have woke as a response to the kid’s disappearance. “We need as much genealogy on the Vardys and Windells as you can find.”

Rina nodded.

“Where’s the hole?”

 

3 

Ianto Jones waited next to Jack as Rina Finney returned to her car. The burrow had an exit the size of a manhole cover. Ianto crouched next to it. There was no indication of warming. He touched the disturbed soil; a similar energy permeated the clearing. 

Draugr came to mind as he stood. Zombie-like creatures associated with Yules. The animated corpses were left to guard treasure. He doubted it was undead. The circumstances were different. But it could be a protector.

“Ideas?” Jack ran a hand lightly over Ianto’s back.

“I think we have more than one problem. Whatever dug its way out is probably a guard and not the source of the cemetery’s negative energy.”

Jack explained about the missing teenagers. 

“We need genealogy information.”

“I asked.” 

Ianto nodded. “There is something here. When we met the death omen, you received information from local law enforcement. It had nothing to do with me.”

“This does?”

“Yeah.” It connected to a nightmare or possibly more than one. Ianto turned back toward the piece of wall. “We need to walk. Whatever we need to find is that direction?”

 

Jack Harkness lead into the trees. He preferred it. Ianto’s connection to Lewella sounded too good to be true. Everything in Jack’s experience had a cost and limitations. The car accident suggested the protection’s limits. With Morpheus and his brothers, they protected their dreamers for selfish reasons. Lewella had yet to ask for anything. Ianto either provided something he didn’t realize, or she’d reveal her intentions at some point.

Leafless trees rose on either side of them, and the frozen ground crunched beneath their feet as they walked. A gust of wind rattled the trees, and a crow took flight overhead. The quiet made Jack uneasy. Other than the crow, he hadn’t seen any signs of life. While January was not a good month for wildlife, they should have seen or heard something.

Jack stopped and waited until Ianto stood next to him. “What are we looking for?” 

“Hazel trees.” 

“What do they mean?” Oaks were doorways and had some connection to druids. Cut hawthorn smelled like decay. 

Ianto shrugged. “Hazel contains knowledge and hazelnuts cause visions.” 

When they returned to the hub, he would find someone who understood ancients and wasn’t afraid to talk. Colina Dove had knowledge, but it made her nervous. Nessa would answer questions but had limited knowledge. Walking into situations blind was never a good idea. Misunderstanding ancients cost Estelle her life. It was likely that Lewella, whatever she was, had more power and reach than the so-called fairies.

A broken fence separated the trees from another clearing. Jack offered Ianto a hand stepping over the remaining fence near the ground. Ianto glared at him, refusing the help. Then he tensed and looked around. 

“What?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know.”

 

The uncertainty added to Ianto Jones uneasiness. Whatever waited for him was not directly connected to Lewella. Unfortunately, that didn’t tell him what it was or wanted. They never resolved the situation with the man in the hardware store. Shane Boone asked about Lewella. He hadn’t thought about it, but she probably had enemies. His connection could potentially be an opportunity.

“Is the energy the same here?” Jack asked.

“No. Darker. Angry.” 

Something across the clearing caught Ianto’s attention, and he walked toward it, faintly hearing Jack follow. The field faded as he walked through a transparent three-dimensional image of what once stood there. Decades or more had passed since the foundation crumbled and weathered away. He passed through the house and stopped next to an old shed. Blue light flickered between the wooden door and stone frame.

Ianto crouched near the edge of the image and touched the ground beneath. A dim illumination seeped through the rotten wood revealing an entrance. He looked around for something to pry open the panel.

When Jack’s hand touched Ianto’s shoulder, the ghostly images disappeared. “Find something?”

“An old cellar.”

“The creature?” Jack sounded skeptical.

“No. It’s the other energy.”

“I’ll check it.”

Jack quickly found a rusty piece of metal. He insisted Ianto stay back. Using a small rod, Jack pried the warped trapdoor open. The remains of a decaying rope ladder hung from just inside the opening. It smelled earthy. With sunlight reaching into the dark space, he easily identified the remains of two people in the corner. 

Sudden fear overwhelmed Ianto, and he stumbled backward. The transparent buildings returned with the addition of two young women. He could see them huddled together, trapped in the dark. “She won’t stay with you. Her father found her a husband. You’ll never see her again.” He remembered the voice. The angry spirit radiated anger. “You’re free.”

“Let him go.” Ianto lost his balance and hit the ground. “Let him go.” 

“Ianto,” Jack said softly, “Listen to my voice. I’m right here.” As Ianto felt Jack’s hand, the ghostly images faded, replaced by Jack crouching in front of him looking worried. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Ianto accepted Jack’s offer to help stand. “We need to get out of here.”

 

4 

Returning to the car was tense. Jack Harkness held onto Ianto unsure of what would happen if he let go. From what he’d seen, Ianto couldn’t interact with reality while affected. Jack fastened Ianto’s seatbelt before jogging around the car. 

It was one of those rare situations where he had no idea what the situation was or how to approach it. Jack started the car and left the cemetery as fast as he could. He parked in the middle of Mayor Finney’s small community near her office. 

“Are you all right?” Jack set a hand on Ianto’s leg.

“No.” Ianto placed an unsteady hand on Jack’s. “I know what the spirit or entity is doing.”

“What?”

Ianto hesitated. “It’s challenging me.” 

Jack flipped his hand and twined their fingers together. “It got into your head.”

“Yeah,” Ianto said weakly. “It’s not like Adam.”

“That’s good.” 

“No.” Ianto looked at Jack with haunted eyes. 

“Tell me.”

Ianto closed his eyes. “It targets couples and preys on their insecurities, trying to convince them that their relationship is doomed. I'm remembering the dreams. The goal is to convince one of the lovers to betray the other in self-defense. When that happens, the entity feels justified killing them.”

“We’re good.”

Ianto looked at Jack. “No.”

“Did you meet Jestina before or after the dreams started?”

“I don’t know.”

Jack squeezed Ianto’s hand. “Do you want to leave me?”

“No.”

“Then we’re good.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

 

Waiting in the mayor’s office gave Ianto Jones too much time to think. He needed to focus on the spirit, but his thoughts kept replaying every regret. He couldn’t help but think the entity’s approach meant something. It forced him to question his feelings. Most of his previous anxiety had been concerns about Jack. 

What is your motivation? Ianto wondered. Lewella was a puzzle. The death omen taught lessons through shock value. The energy at Roberts’ B&B wanted to help. They didn’t know a lot about ancients. The fairies protected their own. Morpheus and his brothers protected the source of their power. What do you get from terrorizing lovers? 

Jack sat next to him. “I need to get you out of here.”

“It wouldn’t help.” Ianto reached for Jack’s hand. “The answer is figuring out what the spirit wants. If it’s not a vengeful ghost, it gets something specific from what it’s doing.”

“What powers it’s abilities?”

“What’s the history of the cemetery?”

Jack repeated what Rina Rinney told him. 

“Maybe it’s not an ancient. The creature that dug the burrow is potentially a guardian. If it’s similar to a Draugr, it was created by a person to protect something or someone. To prepare a solution, the person had to know there was a problem.”

“It’s a curse.”

Ianto nodded. At some point that became plausible. “If it targets the Vardy, one of the girls in the cellar is related.” That meant James and Kensleigh weren’t safely in London. “We need information on the Windells. Unless someone created the guardian to protect the Vardy, or James specifically, it’s connected to the family that caused the situation.”

“Why would it affect you?”

Ianto shrugged. “I don’t know. Since I met Lewella, I’ve researched my family. There is no connection to this area.”

Jack ran a hand lightly over Ianto’s back. “Ethel Vardy was protected. One immunity is rare. Two is unlikely.”

“The spirit mentioned Lewella in one of the dreams. It said I was risking her wrath. Except she commented on our relationship in her cryptic words the day we met her. Lewella knows what you mean to me.”

 

The mayor handed Jack Harkness a laptop logged into the local historical society. He quickly skimmed the historical information. It fit what they already suspected. The love triangle involved the Windell and Vardy, families. Both women reportedly loved a Welshman that came from London looking for a job. Jack could relate. Accounts varied on the morbid tale. One version, with an anonymous author, said the women used ancient magic to determine which one of them the man should marry. 

That potentially explained the spirit. Jack quickly searched for information about the unnamed Welshman and discovered accusations of witchcraft. The Windell family blamed the Vardys, claiming corruption. Jack found it odd that they were blaming each other instead of the man accused. The Welshman reportedly died with the women in the cemetery. 

“What is that?” Ianto asked, looking over Jack’s shoulder.

The small graphic looked like a fountain. Jack clicked it. Two pictures sat side-by-side. On the left was a painting depicting how an area probably looked. The one on the right was a photograph of a fountain surrounded by an overgrown rose garden with hazel trees in the background.

“’Follow the path through the garden to the fountain. Ask the hazel trees for their secrets,’” Ianto recited quietly. “We need to go there.”

Jack wanted more than contradicting details. “Rina,” he said, “Did you find any missing person reports?”

“Unfortunately,” Rina said from behind her desk. “Myrtle Gover and Evelyn Sledge. They disappeared at the same time in the seventies. I actually knew them and hadn't realized the mystery remained. ” She shook her head. “Myrtle was Ethel Vardy’s distant cousin.”

“Were they a couple?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know.”

 

5 

Several minutes later, Ianto Jones closed the laptop. They knew where to go and needed to leave. Whether or not he was related to a man two hundred years ago didn’t matter. Two teenagers lives were in danger. At least two more had already died. While Jack argued, his motivation wasn’t research.

Walking back to his car heightened the tension. By the time they’d fastened their seat belts, they were avoiding each other. Jack gripped the keys but didn’t reach for the ignition. Ianto reached for Jack. 

“We know what it wants. We stay together, and focus on the present.” Ianto squeezed Jack’s hand.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“We can do this.” Ianto wished he felt as confident as he sounded. 

Reluctantly, Jack started the car. Mayor Finney gave them direction to the long abandoned property shown in the pictures. The only connections between the families and the location were the dreams. It could be a trap, but Ianto suspected there was something else involved. 

Everything he knew about Lewella tied in with Celtic myths and legends. Both salmon and hazel trees were associated with understanding and creativity. Oak trees were doorways. Hawthorns were contradictions. They had beautiful blooms and thorns. Herbalists used them for healing. But when cut they smelled like decay. Owls taught lessons using unexpected methods. Cats were guardians of the underworld. Some were the same. Some weren't.

As they neared the access road, the dream became a vivid memory. A symbol of wisdom swam in a wishing well that gave advice before a confrontation. He had power in the dream as he had and used at Roberts’ B&B. Except lashing out in angry at an aggressive, manipulate spirit didn’t make sense to him. Ianto wondered about alternatives.

He felt the energy as Jack turned the car passed an oak onto a bumpy, poorly maintained road. It reminded him of the blue power and the guardian from the cemetery. While he had no idea what they were facing, he knew it had to end. Descendants of the original trio had found their way to the final confrontation. One way or another, it would be over soon.

The road ended with a crumbling stone wall and an old metal gate on the ground. Jack insisted on taking Ianto’s hand after they climbed from the car. Energy tingled over his skin as Jack lead through the gate. The remains of a stone path lead over the frozen ground, around stark bushes, and through a grove.

Ask the hazel trees for their secrets , echoed through Ianto’s mind. He stopped in the middle of the trees, wondering if he needed to find something among the tangled branches.

“Ianto.” 

“There’s something here, Jack. I don’t know what.” The energy was different and possibly unrelated. “It can wait.”

Beyond the trees, a marble angel stood, wings stretched, in the center of the weathered fountain. Although faded with age, it remained intact. The painting of the location was beautiful but inaccurate. As the tingling increased, he could vividly picture how it had once been.

The shimmering image of a man appeared next to the fountain. He wore outdated work clothes and a resigned expression. Energy radiated from the specter. His ancestor had somehow turned himself into the guardian.

“Are James and Kensleigh safe?”

Although it didn’t speak, he felt a response. The teenagers were safe for the moment. That was more than he could say for himself as an image of the past wrapped itself around him. The eternal spring was colder than any winter he’d ever felt. After the man had faded, two women approached wearing two-hundred-year-old fashions. One woman was the same as the spirit from his dream. The other he suspected was the voice from the well. Anger and emotional pain filled the area around the found and them.

“Finally,” the angry woman said.

“Why are we here?”

“Your mistake,” she declared, her words translating from her time to contemporary English.

The other woman sighed. “We’re trapped here.”

“Why?”

“We asked for the impossible.” The angry woman paced.

“What did you ask for?”

The angry woman stopped and crossed her arms. “Proof of love.”

“For two hundred years, you’ve terrorized lovers.”

She tilted her chin up defiantly. “They lie.”

“This has to stop.” 

The other woman approached. “We cannot. We’re trapped here until we find proof.”

“How do you prove love?”

“It doesn’t exist.”

“I love Jack.” 

The angry ghost groaned. “You want a wife and children. He’s attracted to everything.”

“Love is complicated. We accepted the past, live in the present and hope for future.”

“You question him!”

Ianto countered, “I question myself more.”

She stalked toward him. “And Lisa? You said you loved her.”

“I did.” The tears welled in Ianto’s eyes as he remembered how Lisa died. “I couldn’t save her. I have to live with that.”

“Liar!”

The answer came to him as the angry ghost glared at him. “He loved you both. You demanded he choose and he couldn’t. Unable to accept that, one or both of you tried to force it. You wanted something he couldn’t give you.”

A wave of anger hit him, and he stumbled backward. 

“You need to forgive him for being unable to choose.”

The other ghost walked over and placed a hand on the angry one’s shoulder. 

“He still loves you. Forgive him.”

The spring garden shifted back to winter. A fading blue energy danced over his skin. Ianto turned and embraced Jack. The pain and anger filling the garden faded. 

“What happened?” Jack held Ianto close.

“The short version? Romeo and Juliet as a Stephen King novel.”

Jack kissed the top of his head. “Is it over?”

“I think so.”


	2. Aman and Idrissa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to Google Translate "liefde" is Afrikaans for "my love." I'm using it as a term of endearment.

1 

With the first rays of sunlight, a purplish hue filled the horizon. Wind swept over the desert, lifting sand into the air like a dust devil. It swirled in mesmerizing choreography. The ground rumbled, shifting sand outward, and an obsidian spire rose through the dance. A lion stood, silhouetted on the horizon, watching the desert reveal it’s secret. Idrissa Oliveira knelt with his head bowed and one hand on the dense granules before him. The sand flowed beneath him as the monument reached for the sky. 

For a moment, the world froze. Then the pillar of sand receded, condensing into a feminine figure at the base of the obelisk. “A man, born of the abyss, walks beneath a scorching sun over a shifting path of redemption.” She stepped toward him, the remains of the dust devil whirled at her feet. “He requires a guide through the desolation or the mirages will destroy him.”

“I am lost.”

“No.” She stopped in front of Idrissa. “Stand.”

He hesitated briefly and stood. 

“The legacy of your ancestors remains. Open your true eyes, and you will see the oasis through the mirage.”

“Who are you?”

Laughter echoed over the dunes. “Ariadne, Mistress of the Labyrinth.”

 

Idrissa woke, remembering the strange dream. It reminded him of his sisters’ prediction and the attack on Aman at his wedding. He believed then it couldn’t possibly involve Aman. Any version of him. Either he was wrong or losing his mind.

He reached for his mobile, on the bedside table, and noticed a change to the surface. He ran his fingers over the carving and knew without turning to the light on what it was. The stylized, heart-shaped Sankofa was a Ghana art form. He’d have to look up the associated proverb. 

Without checking the time, he laid back and stared into the darkness. He had no idea what to think. No one carved the table while he slept. Even if he could imagine doing it in his sleep, he had no art skills. The dream puzzled him more. The strange African symbolism might have been an anxiety dream except for the woman. That made no sense.

 

2 

Unable to sleep, Idrissa showered, dressed and headed for his office. Work gave him something to do. If nothing else, he could order another system analysis. He needed to check for hidden storage sections and areas.

Tiarni waited. The perpetual humor she was known for had faded, leaving a worried expression. “We have an intruder.”

“How do you know?” Idrissa wondered if Keara returned during the night. 

“I saw him near the garden with the monkey.”

“What was he doing?”

She shook her head. “He walked passed me in the hall.” 

“Describe him.”

Tiani closed her eyes. “He wore black desert clothes. Like the Middle East.”

“Did he say anything?”

She laughed uneasily. “He told me I should go back to bed.”

“Do you want me to walk you back to your room?”

“No.” 

More than one person voiced concerns about a security problem. Other Keara recently checked a storage area he hadn’t known about. Idrissa reviewed internal security. After he had details, he needed to contact Nova Scotia about increasing security. Without knowing the inventory in certain areas, he would not be able to determine if anything disappeared.

Nothing indicated an intruder. He checked the system for a data breach. The man accessed the system with clearance comparable to a Torchwood agent. A review of the garden showed readings similar to Keara’s arrival. The area needed to be assessed and secured. Blocking the psychotic time traveler was likely impossible. He had no idea what to think about the intruder. Except the computer showed a restricted terminal in use. 

Idrissa quickly opened the office weapon’s safe. He needed to more information. He sighed, checking the energy charges. A part of him wanted to believe the dream was related to the intrusion. Whatever the dream meant, he was not getting his husband back. 

 

3 

The intruder used a workstation in an area requiring clearance. Idrissa used a device to force access. Previously, it had not been a problem. He needed to discuss official access. Based on what Aman said about Nigeria, that could be easier said than done. Keara might be the only one able to provide it without some type of forced control.

As he walked down the dusty hallway, Idrissa tried remembering when he’d sent maintenance bots through the last time. It had been long enough that he was not sure. He added one more chore to his endless to-do list. The door stood open. Although there was not CCTV footage, the intruder made no attempt to conceal his presence. Idrissa peered around the door frame. As described, the man wore desert attire. 

“Do not shoot me, liefde. It could cause a quantum disruption.” 

Idrissa stared. After a year-and-a-half, he had accepted Aman’s death. The younger version reviewed the reports and insisted they were real. His husband disrupted a quantum entanglement device, sacrificing himself in an effort to save the planet. Before Aman left for Southeast Asia, he said he would not be back. He made a deal with Keara to rescue Kailen and Eryn at De Waal Park.

“How?” It was all Idrissa could manage.

“I do not know.” Aman looked up from the keyboard. He looked the same. There was something different about his eyes. “I died that day.”

Idrissa moved into the doorway and steadied himself on the jamb. 

Aman stood and held his hands out. “The explosion had an unexpected result. One Keara could not have predicted.”

“What are you?” 

Aman shrugged. “I am not human. This form is a construct. I chose it because it is familiar.”

“How…” Idrissa trailed off. “How long?”

Aman shook his head slightly. “I returned from the abyss after Jack detonated the second device. It took time to learn how to navigate this existence again.”

Both the dream and Aman’s return sounded insane. Idrissa wanted to believe. If he was honest with himself, he needed to believe. The easiest way to lie was telling a person what they wanted to hear. “Why did you hide from me?”

“I did not want to hurt you again.”

Idrissa hesitated. “Tell me a secret we never shared with anyone.”

Aman thought for a moment. “The first time we had sex, I insisted on a bed, the light and eye contact.” He reached for Idrissa’s face. “I did not want you to be ashamed.”

 

4

Unable to process what happened, Idrissa returned to his room to wait. He had a growing list of questions. The important question was whether or not that was Aman. The rest could wait or did not matter. Idrissa sat on the bed and traced a finger over the Sankofa on the table. It was too much.

Twenty minutes later, the door opened seemingly by itself. Aman reformed, opting for different clothes after the door shut. Idrissa wondered why Aman allowed Tiarni Atmore to see him. The construct, as Aman called it, probably took effort. One more question that did not matter.

“Everything is the same.”

“I threw out your toothbrush.” Returning to Nigeria after meeting the younger version had been painful. Idrissa had trouble returning to their room. He convinced himself that packing Aman’s clothes for a donation was practical.

Aman laughed. 

Unsure what to say, Idrissa asked, “Did you carve this?”

“No.” Aman crossed the room and eyed the symbol. "’It is not wrong to go back for that which you have forgotten.’"

“The Sankofa proverb?” 

“Yes.” Aman paused. “When did this happen?”

“Last night while I slept.” Idrissa described the dream.

Aman sat on the bed, listening. “Mistress of the Labyrinth?”

Idrissa shrugged. “No idea.” Without thinking, he reached for Aman and found the mattress instead of a leg.

“Taking physical form requires effort.” Aman reached out and lightly touched Idrissa’s face. 

His eyes closed. “Will you stay?”

Aman kissed him. It tingled. “While you rest.”

 

5

With sun filtering in from the courtyard, Idrissa opened his eyes and immediately wondered if the meeting had been another bizarre dream. Except he could sense Aman’s presence next to him. The questions returned. Instead of asking, Idrissa reached across the bed.

Aman appeared moments later facing him. “It was not a dream.”

“Will you come back?” Idrissa withdrew his hand. 

“In time, liefde. There are many things I must do.”

“Be careful.”

“Do not worry.” Aman ran his fingertips up Idrissa’s arm. “Being incorporeal has its advantages.”

“When you have time, check my report on the wedding attack. Neither Bashiri nor Jack could figure out why it happened.”

“What wedding?”

Idrissa explained the terrorist-like attack on the younger Aman and Kailen’s wedding. One of the attackers spoke Portuguese, and Bashiri translated. “He claimed you were the heir of a dark legacy and must die before you can summon a demon.” Idrissa explained about his sister’s prophecy and how it applied to his dream.

“That sounds like one of Keara’s games.” 

That was the theory Idrissa heard. “It resulted in Bashiri and Jack talking. The younger you previously threatened to kill Bashiri, and he sent a man called Faraji after Jack.”

“He threatened father?” Aman stared. “Why?”

Idrissa was not sure. “Bashiri wanted Aman to return to South Africa and objected to the wedding.”

“Where is he?”

“Nova Scotia.”

Aman shimmered. “Canada?”


	3. Chapter 3

Time scattered ruins of a castle over a hill. John Hart followed (adult) Anwen over a worn dirt path beneath a bright, clear sky. She hadn’t said much about the outing. Langford quietly mentioned a negotiation went badly, and she needed a few days peace if possible. He didn’t mind fresh air and privacy. The stress overwhelmed him at times. Not that anyone cared.

Anwen rested on the edge of an old marble fountain. The center statue had crumbled, filling the marble circle with chunks of stone. She reached into the debris and withdrew a shiny coin. A cold wind suddenly whipped around him, sending a chill up his spine. John looked around and nothing appeared threatening. A flowering weed bloomed behind Anwen in the fountain. He wondered if it simply appeared.

“You sensed the ghost?” Anwen smiled.

“Why are we here?”

“Several eerie experiences were reported in the area. Three days ago, a teenager and his grandmother disappeared.”

“Working vacation?” He should have known. 

“Someone needed to check.” She shrugged.

John flipped open his wrist-strap. The readings indicated strange energy, but no indication of a source. “We need to leave.”

“Why?”

Wind spun around his ankles, seeming to grab at him. When he looked at Anwen, a blue light flickered behind her. For a moment, the stature appeared intact showing an angel with outstretched wings. “It’s not safe.”

Reluctantly, she stood. “It’s beautiful here.”

An illusion, John thought, leading back through the hillside ruins. The eerie feeling increased as blue light flicked through stone embedded in the ground. As he stepped through the archway, the world blinked like a malfunctioning television set. He turned to check on Anwen and found the castle rebuilding itself stone by stone. Wind-chimes clanged, startling him. The sound echoed. 

Stone crunched overhead as a gargoyle stood and flexed its wings. The hideous creature stared over the edge of the castle curiously. 

“You must fight your demons, John.” Anwen’s voice came from outside the castle.

“You defeated them, darling.” As he turned toward the voice, hands reached up through the solid ground and grabbed his ankles. With a sharp tug, they dragged him into the ground. “Help me!”

Anwen stood beyond the drawbridge staring at him. “Fight!”

“I love you!” 

 

Terrified, John bolted forward in the bed, the sheets tangled around his legs. He focused on his breathing until his heart stopped racing. The sound of wind-chimes echoed.

“You’re awake.” Ken crossed the bedroom carrying a suitcase.

“Going somewhere?”

He nodded, looking tense. “My sister was in a car accident yesterday. She needs my help with the kids and her house.” 

“For how long?” 

Ken set the case on the bed avoiding John’s eyes. “I don’t know.”

“What’s wrong?”

He hesitated. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

John swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The image of him being grabbed by then ankles caused him to hesitate longer than he’d admit. He hurried over to Ken. “Why?”

“You still love her.” Ken opened a drawer and grabbed the first stack of clothes.

That confused John. “My Anwen is dead.”

“No.” Ken shook his head. “You’re waiting for the girl to become the woman you love.”

“She won’t. My Anwen is dead. The experiences that created her won’t happen. The circumstances that resulted in the relationship can’t be repeated.” His experience with the second timeline before its destruction proved that.

Ken stopped, his hands shaking as he held shirts over his luggage. “You called out to her in your sleep.”

“I was having a nightmare.”

Tears welled in Ken’s eyes. “I’m a convenience. Jack’s babysitter. Your shag toy.”

“No. You are the light in my darkness.” John pulled Ken into a hug, pressing his cheek to the side of Ken’s head. “I will give you whatever I can.”

“I can’t stay.”

“We can get another flat.”

Ken turned, meeting John’s eyes. “I can’t be your anti-depressant.”

“I’m not using you.”

“Not intentionally.” Ken shook his head sadly.

“We could take a trip when you’re sister’s feeling better.” It worked for Ianto, John thought desperately. “Wherever you want to go.”

Ken’s eyes rested on John’s lips for a moment too long. John leaned in and kissed him. Conflicted emotions and sexual tension erupted. The suitcase hit the floor moments before they tumbled into bed. The passion rose and their bodies twined. 

As the heat cool, Ken turned away. “That didn’t change anything.”

“How do I make this right?”

“I don’t think you can.”

 

Unable to change Ken’s mind, John helped carry boxes. From the organization, it was obviously not an impulsive move over last night’s dream. The flat’s emptiness force John out. He walked through the fading light and cold until the urge to drink overwhelmed him.

Fight your demons, John , adult Anwen’s voice returned from his dream. 

Instead, he opened the door to the dim lit, dingy pub, and claimed a stool at the bar. He ordered cheap whiskey, needing the burn. A few shots later, he realized the nanogenes prevented intoxication. He couldn’t numb the pain. 

Darker thoughts stalked through his mind fueled by a cocktail of frustration and anger. When he felt the familiar tingle of telepathy, he blocked it. A perverse satisfaction came from defying Anwen. She’d trapped him on the backwater planet.

A woman suddenly sat next to him, adding ideas to the growing list forming in his mind. “John Hart,” she said quietly, her voice modulated like Robert’s translation device, “What are you doing?”

“Who are you?”

“Oldaria.” She turned to face him, with a hands-free-mobile-like device over her ear. 

“Why are you here?”

She leaned one elbow on the counter and eyed him. “You can not safely drink.” She moved his glass away.

“Not your business.” He reached for it.

She grabbed his hand. “I will carry you.” The translator failed to translate. “Misbehaving child.”

He tried to withdraw his hand. She held on. “The John I knew almost died from alcohol poisoning.”

“I can’t get drunk.”

“We are leaving.” She stood.

When he didn’t move, she leaned over and whispered in his ear. “You will leave with me, or I will call Robert.”


	4. Luc and Eryn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is more to Luc than a family history of domestic violence. As discussed earlier in the series, his grandfather affected the family genetics with alchemy. Despite his anger and aggression, he wouldn't hurt Eryn. The family history scares Luc. He doesn't want to become his grandfather.

A book fell to the floor revealing a picture of a frozen lake with a small island covered by a large, bare maple tree. Luc Sarkisian found himself standing on the ice as the sun rose and a red hue consumed the sky. A single maple leaf drifted onto the ice. A crack extended outward from the contact.

“It has been written,” a genderless voice came on the wind. 

Anger swelled. 

A raven landed on a branch as the sun moved across the sky. Buds formed. Leaves grew. The raven tilted it’s head to one side watching him. 

“What is this?” Luc demanded.

Laughter echoed across the ice, and another crack started beyond the island. A gust of wind passed over him, sending ice crystals into the air. 

“What do you want?”

A loud crunch echoed as the ice broke, piling outward as something climbed from the lake. Smoke-like steam lifted into the air as the vaguely human form touched the ice. It rippled like water, seeming to flow instead of walk. The raven shifted uneasily in the tree as the thing passed the island.

“It has been written,” the voice repeated. 

“What are you?”

The form shifted, mirroring Luc. It glared with blood red eyes. “Destiny.”

The raven lifted into the air as the maple leaves changed color. As the leaves fell, the ground cracked. Snow glittered in the sunlight as the island, and barren tree sank into the lake. The form laughed an eerie sound as the last branches disappeared. 

Again the anger swelled. Luc swung at the mirror image of himself. Another boom echoed over the ice as his fist impacted and cracked then area in front of him like a broken mirror. Pieces fell revealing darkness.

 

The unexplained anger lasted through a session with his punching bag and class. Luc returned to Torchwood and tried again with the gym. Nothing helped. He was angry for no reason. While he’d had anger problems since his childhood, he couldn’t remember a similar situation. 

Eryn entered and stood back. “Luc?”

He couldn’t blame her. He barely kept himself from hitting a wall in their bedroom that morning. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“We could stay home.”

Luc rested his head on the bag. He’d forgotten. “No. Going out could help.” He doubted it. “I need to clean up.” 

The shower did nothing to ease the anger or calm his nerves. It felt like a pressure building in his head. When he focused on what caused it, a maple tree with a big black bird appeared in his mind. That made no sense. Eryn quietly joined him. 

The anger faded which worried him more. Physical contact never alleviated his rage. Exercise and aggression resolved it. Except for this time, suggesting there was another cause. He didn’t know what his grandfather Sarkisian attempted to do to himself or the family using alchemy. It made a violent man more violent and left all of his children and grandchildren with anger issues.

“I’m having temper problems.” He sat on their bed, his eyes on his hands in his lap.

“I know.” She sat next to him and lightly touched his back.

He’d tried to convince her to leave the shower. “I’m dangerous.”

“No. You’re overworked and tired.” She pressed her forehead to his shoulder. “We all are.”

There was something wrong with that. He had no idea how to word it. “I have no right to ask for this.”

Eryn laughed softly. “We’ve had that conversation.” 

Red crept up his cheeks.

She hugged him. “Do I get dinner and a movie?”

 

Their original plans involved a different place. With Luc’s concerns, Eryn suggested a familiar setting. He’d first eaten at the Chinese restaurant when his parents were alive. It reminded him of the good times. Learning the truth about his mother and grandfather’s Torchwood activities made it difficult. 

The waitress gave them a table in the back, allowing Luc to have his back to the wall and view the room. The consideration started after the bomb threat. Somehow the staff learned he worked for Torchwood. They offered a small percentage discount for emergency service workers and started writing police discount on the bill. After everything they’d accomplish, he didn’t argue it.

“We’re going to need a new language?” Eryn commented over her menu.

Luc met her eyes. “Why?”

“The new duo clearing plates. I don’t recognize their language.”

He hadn’t noticed. “Matt would probably know.”

She reached across the table and gently grabbed the side of his hand. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” He reluctantly explained the difference between his usual anger issues and the new problem.

“We’re under a lot of stress, Luc. After the Caribbean and Greenland situations, university classes might seem simple. They’re not. At work, you have nothing to prove. You’ve done things scientists with extensive knowledge and experience couldn’t do. Nevertheless with a time constraint. At school, you’re taking Physics 101. A genius science nerd in a room full of them. All bored from the basic information. Some you know is wrong and have to keep it to yourself.”

“I’m the oldest student in class. The youngest is fifteen.” He should have been at a much better university by then.

“At fifteen, you were running a Torchwood office. Often by yourself.”

Ling returned. Eryn quickly ordered for both of them. They usual ate the same dishes. Distracted by his thoughts again, he wasn’t sure what they were eating. Not that it mattered. Dealing with the anger took priority. He doubted stress caused the new version.

“Do you want me to call Captain Harkness?”

“No.” Jack had more important problems.

Eryn nodded. “Right.”

The conversation changed to lighter topics and Luc struggled to pay attention. When the food arrived, Eryn eyed him while they ate. Getting lost in thought wasn’t unusual. Whereas being unable to focus on Eryn at dinner without an active case was new.

With the food gone, Eryn waved a fortune cookie under his nose before cracking her own. He’d always found them absurd, but they amused her. She broke hers in half. His cookie landed in a pile on his plate. 

"It is not wrong to go back for that which you have forgotten." Eryn read, sounding confused. “I’ve seen this before. It’s an African proverb.” She stared at it for a moment before grabbed her mobile, and ran a search. “Sankofa.”

Luc held his out. “Happiness and fortune will come from unexpected sources.”

“Yours has a lotus bloom.” She pointed toward the small image on hers. “The stylized bird is Sankofa.”

“We need to leave.”

 

Growing up with Torchwood taught Luc the dangers in the unexplained. Since meeting the Cardiff Torchwood team, he learned that physics, and science in general, didn’t have all the answers. A strange fortune cookie didn’t seem like much. Except for the odds. They’d dined there numerous times since Eryn moved to Nova Scotia. She’d never mentioned a proverb before nevertheless an African proverb. It meant something although he had no idea what.

The anger returned as they stepped outside. Rather than seek relief from Eryn, Luc let it build. With nothing more than portal devices and a few stun pellets, he might need it. Then he saw a man crossing the car park. The restaurant had customers in all shapes and sizes. Except the man looked South American and reminded Luc of the gunmen at Aman and Kailen’s wedding.

Luc reached into his pocket for a stun pellet and waited. The man went for Eryn. It could be coincidental or involve Aman. Either way, Luc moved in front of Eryn. The man swung at him. Luc slammed a pellet against the man’s hand. It only startled him. 

“Biomech. Portal out,” he instructed Eryn.

She hesitated for a moment before disappearing. Luc needed to get his device from his pocket. He dodged as the biomech swung again, hitting a cement light post and cracking it.

Another man strode across the car park. “Run,” he told the stranger, fumbling the device in his pocket. Instead, the stranger moved incredibly fast. When he reached for the biomech, the stranger’s hand passed through the other man. The biomech struggled for a moment and then dropped to the ground. 

Luc stared. 

“Go. Tend to Eryn.” The voice sounded familiar.

Luc scrambled backward. “Who are you?”

The stranger eyed him a moment. “Azrael.”

 

Luc found Eryn waited inside by the door. He hugged her. “We need to get to Kailen’s lab for the CCTV footage.” Beyond calling himself the angel of death, there was something about the man who helped him. He had to have alien technology to take down a biomech.

She clung. “I sent a text message.”

Aman jogged up the hallway wearing a headset. “RCMP is reporting multiple homicides within blocks of the restaurant. They’re shutting the area down. All known victims appear to be South American tourists. RCMP views it as a targeted spree.”

“Is it active?” Luc kept one arm around Eryn and motioned for the headset.

“No.”

“He’s potentially targeting biomechs. Do we have a picture to send Jack?”

“No,” Aman said. “First thing Kailen tried when Eryn returned was check. Every camera in the area is down.”

Luc explained what happened. 

“Kailen sent drones.”

“We need to figure out what happened.” Luc kissed the top of Eryn’s head. 

 

Hours later, Luc climbed into bed. They had reports of several dead men with no apparent cause of death and strange quantum energy readings. Reports of the killer varied. All of the dead were identified and connected to Brazil. They hadn’t been able to trace the gunmen at the wedding. All they had were guesses.

Eryn curled up against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Did you find anything?” She whispered.

“No.” He wrapped an arm around her.

“The Sankofa is from Ghana in Western Africa. Torchwood Nigeria is in western Africa. I’d heard the proverb because Aman had a Sankofa bird figurine.”

Luc nodded.

“You said the man sounded familiar. What did he look like?”

“South American. Brazil?” Luc shrugged.

She kissed his shoulder. “What would cause a person to give off quantum energy?”

“I don’t know.”

“Direct contact with a quantum entanglement device?”

Luc looked down at Eryn. “Future Aman? Why would he protect me?”

“That’s not the first question I’d ask.”

When Luc finally drifted toward sleep, “it has been written,” echoed through his mind.


	5. Jack and Ianto

1

Nothing involving Lewella or Torchwood was ever easy. Ianto Jones’s anxiety increased as he thought about the ghost situation. He missed something, suspecting it involved the hazel trees. The energy in the small grove was different and didn’t seem urgent at the time. 

With the growing community tension and the investigation of the bodies he and Jack found, Mayor Rina Finney insisted they stay for a few days. One of the complications was Kinsleigh’s father refusing to accept she was an adult and had the legal right to make decisions for herself. The teenagers were given accommodations at the same large house.

Jack stepped into their room and closed the door. “I was thinking of taking the kids to Birmingham.”

Ianto looked up from his laptop. “Why?”

“The Sisters can keep an eye on them. It’s not safe here. I just spoke with Kinsleigh’s father. He’s convinced Jamie is doing something to his daughter. It’s more likely the father did something.”

From seeing the kids together, Ianto got the impression the relationship was more self-preservation than sexual. “When are we leaving?”

Jack slipped his coat off. “I don’t know. The medical examiner’s initial assessment is the young women died forty years ago. Which fits with the missing locals.” He folded his coat in half and set it on the dresser before sitting on the edge of the bed behind Ianto’s chair. “I asked for a copy of the final report.”

Ianto hesitated. “I think there is more to this situation.”

“What did you find?” Jack set a hand on Ianto’s shoulder.

“The artwork and photograph of the fountain show a different statue in the middle. There is nothing to explain the angel.” Ianto held out the laptop showing the images they’d already seen. “Mayor Finney mentioned the cemetery and the love triangle story, but not the others in the area.” He set the computer back on the table. “There are eight more missing people in the area that I can find. Myrtle Gover and Evelyn Sledge were not reported missing.”

“She lied.”

“Yeah. I dropped DCI Harpham a message and asked her about Spooky. She knows his kids.” Ianto took a moment. “She’s checking if Spooky served with Reginald Finney. Harpham didn’t know of a welfare check on missing teens. She’s checking that too.”

Jack paused to think. “Rina knows I don’t remember.” 

 

Jack Harkness rested in bed with his back against the headboard. Ianto slept soundly next to him. Having been on Earth since Victorian times, Jack had a lot of history. With various publicized stories, and pictures posted online, friends and former lovers contacted him for different reasons. He’d inherited the military desk he used in their flat. His friend’s granddaughter found old photographs later and brought them by. Reactions varied from anger to curiosity. Few people blatantly lied. It left Jack questioning Rina Finney’s motivation.

Using Torchwood files, Ianto researched that extensive history and created a basic timeline of important events and people. Originally, it had been a way to connect. Since returning, Ianto didn’t ask as many personal questions. Part of it was memory issues. Jack suspected Ianto had a better understanding of avoiding one’s demons.

Reviewing the information again didn’t help. The answer probably had to do with Rina and her connection to the community. She called him to help with a cemetery issue. That was a joke in some law enforcement circles. She knew which cemetery and what story to tell. Ianto quickly found the girls’ bodies. Rina knew who they were. Knowing the fountain was easier to explain. Except Jack couldn’t help but wonder if she was involved.

The original story involved three people. An unnamed Welshman, a Vardy and Windell. Ianto doubted he was related at first. It would be an odd coincidence, or the information was edited in the community stories. According to the city page, Rina Finney was born and raised locally. She attended university in London but remained connected to her home which could be PR or something more.

 

2

A pile of bones covered the ground among the hazel trees. Ianto Jones stood, watching from behind a translucent curtain as a gust of wind dislodged a pile at the center of the trees, sending bones tumbling through the trees. Fog crept from the edges of the grove and mingled among the remains. 

Distorted wind chimes jingled. A chill enveloped him from within as the fog withdrew to the edge. It shifted upward creating a barrier. With another gust of air, the mist swirled creating a vortex and drawing the bones from the ground into the spin. The trees appeared unaffected by the movement. A sharp, metallic sound filled the grove and the fog imploded. 

For minutes, silence filled the grove, and nothing moved. Then a crunch echoed. One of the trees lifted from the ground, unearthing its claw-like roots. The hazel tree climbed from the soil. A blue light flickered and formed a candle-shaped flame among the twisted branches.

“Few have traveled across the river and returned. There is power in that distinction.” The flame flickered. “You stand in the gateway between worlds as the ancients awake.”

An owl formed from the flame and spread its wings. It launched itself into the air, flying straight for the veil, and passing through with a shimmer. The large bird landed on Ianto’s shoulder as the curtain solidified into an endless wall. 

 

Ianto Jones woke with a start. He finally understood. The situation with the ghosts wasn’t over. More importantly, it wasn’t the primary problem. The hazel grove drew him to the area. There was something buried there. Ianto pushed himself up. He needed to retrieve it.

“Hey,” Jack said sleepily from beside him. 

“We have to go back.”

“What?”

“’Follow the path through the garden to the fountain. Ask the hazel trees for their secrets.’”

Jack reached out. “After sunrise.”

“We can’t wait.” Ianto slipped from the bed.

“Explain this to me,” Jack said as they headed for the car.

“The ghosts are a fucked up riddle. The past, present, and future. Obsession, resignation, and determination to make it right. Myrtle and Evelyn disappeared the year I was born. James and Kinsleigh were threatened to bring us here.”

“Slow down.” Jack reached out and grabbed Ianto’s hand. “Where is this coming from?”

Ianto lowered his head. “I was looking at everything wrong. Lewella showed me the doorway through the veil. Cats are guardians of the Underworld. Owls are messengers from the Underworld. The symbols, changing of the seasons.” Ianto stopped and took a deep breath. “Shane Boone looked terrified when I asked Lewella for help. He knew something that I didn’t.”

“The man in the hardware store?”

“Yeah.” Ianto took a moment. The epiphany was overwhelming. “Verity Holdsworth was scared of me. Nessa identified me as a witch. She thought it was odd I carried a gun.” 

Jack took both of Ianto’s hands. “You’re stressed, sleep deprived, and manic.” Jack paused. “Are you sure this isn’t a PTSD episode?”

“You suspected there was a lot more to the situation than Lewella told me. There is, Jack.”

“What do you need from the hazel trees?” Jack gripped Ianto’s hands.

Ianto looked down. That part he wasn’t sure how to explain. It sounded insane to him. “A means to control the veil.”

Jack stared at him for a moment. “Do you remember what happened to the Owen from this time?”

“Yeah. The embodiment of Death crossed the veil with him when the Resurrection Device brought him back.”

“What happens if you don’t find it?”

“Someone else does.”

 

3

The entire situation was wrong, Jack Harkness concluded as he climbed into the car next to Ianto. Whatever waited for them in the overgrown garden was affecting Ianto’s mind. Controlling the veil suggested a power over life and death. That was not a power buried beneath trees. 

Driving in the early morning quiet gave Jack time to reflect on their experiences with the ancients and left over questions about Ianto. With what he knew of Other Keara’s manipulation, he assumed Ianto’s return was a transfer between universes. Owen and Toshiko were examples of that. The Ianto from this time died in front of him. After the House of the Dead, the veil should have been permanently sealed. Except Lewella could reportedly suspend a person or people in time and hold universes together. It gave him a different perspective on reality.

Reconsidering the concepts of life and death wasn’t entirely new. He learned from personal experience that living and dying wasn’t simple nor linear. Even before Rose Tyler changed him, he’d lost friends, lovers, and family. War and violence sadly made sense. The ancients and their connection to the universe didn’t.

The fairies were innately tied to nature. Death, as a being, hadn’t made much sense, and it’s connection to the Weevils hadn’t been explained. Neither Abbadon the destroyer, nor Bilis Manger’s time travel, fit anything Jack understood. Morpheus and his brothers appeared motivated by self-preservation. Mothman legends offered insight. The ancients could simply be other life-forms, possibly inter-dimensional, that humans had difficulty perceiving or understanding without a frame of reference. 

Life, deaths, and ghosts could be an aspect of thermodynamics. Energy couldn't be created nor destroyed. Consciousness was a type of energy that hadn’t been thoroughly explained. Viewing the afterlife as another dimension said how much his experiences since meeting Lewella changed him. It could offer a scientific basis for ghosts and even reincarnation.

Or he simply indicated needed more sleep. 

Jack lightly squeezed Ianto’s leg. Whatever the latest situation involved, or Lewella’s intentions, it was the price for having Ianto back. 

 

The sun rose, casting its first rays as the car turned onto the property. The familiar energy felt different somehow. Ianto Jones idly wondered if he had changed instead. The road ended with a crumbling stone wall and an old metal gate on the ground. As he had the day before, Jack insisted on taking his hand. The physical contact potentially lessened the effect he’d experienced near the old cellar where they found the missing girls.

The remains of a stone path lead over the frozen ground, around stark bushes, and into a grove of hazel trees. He knew something waited the day before but had been distracted by the trio ghosts.

Jack held his hand tightly and kept him from entering the trees. “What are you sensing?”

“Energy.”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know.” Ianto knew he needed to reach the center.

“The power over life and death is not buried here. Are you sure what’s affecting you isn’t using your fear of death against you?”

Ianto realized he hadn’t explained it correctly. “That’s not it. The owl in my dream said I’m the gatekeeper. It has to do with the ancients accessing our world.”

“’A means to control the veil.’” Jack quoted. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” The image in his dream showed the veil solidifying into a wall.

“You need to think this through.”

Ianto turned. “I can’t walk away. Whatever brought me here, won’t let me. I need to do this.”

Jack leaned in and kissed him. “Be careful.”

Watching Ianto walk into the trees tore at Jack while a memory nagged. There was something familiar about the situation, and he had no idea what. Most of his knowledge and experiences were not recorded in Torchwood files. He needed to find an alternative to the dream talismans for accessing his memories.

 

4

Energy danced over Ianto’s skin as he released Jack’s hand. Blue light flickered at his feet and energy surged through him as it had behind the Roberts B&B. A flame similar to his dream emerged from the ground at his feet. A crow he vaguely remembered from the cemetery sat on one of the twisted branches eying him. The flame expanded outward, filling the grove in blue energy. The bird remained even as the trees disappeared.

You stand in the gateway between worlds. 

“What does that mean?”

The ancients and magic are viewed as stories to be told around a campfire. Any who follow the old ways are ridiculed. No one remembers. No one cares. They are unprepared for the storm on the horizon.

“Why was I brought here?”

Another seeks to take your power. She does not understand what is happening or that your birthright is also a curse.

Ianto wondered what he should ask next. He had so many questions. Who, why, how and what rolled through his mind. “Why would someone want to be the gatekeeper?”

Picture a toll bridge. To cross, the traveler pays to pass the barrier. 

“She wants to demand favors from ancients?” It sounded insane. If the Otherworld was something other than the afterlife depicted in various cultures mythology, then the creatures on the other side of the barrier were essentially aliens with god-like powers.

 

An uneasy feeling crept over Jack Harkness as he watched Ianto stand unmoving among the trees. They weren’t alone. Something stalked them unseen. Only the wind offered sound and movement in the unnaturally quiet morning. Jack couldn’t help but remember Ianto said he needed to find what was hidden or someone else would.

If Rina Finney intentionally brought them there, it suggested she wanted something she couldn’t access herself. Ianto mentioned ancients, crossing the veil and being the gatekeeper. If the gateway had to do with beings like Lewella rather than Life and Death, that might make sense. The person guarding the gate would have some leverage. 

Then Rina stepped from the trees beyond the garden. She wore a ritual robe and carried something. As she neared, Jack recognized the wooden puzzle box. He immediately thought about alchemy. Everything they’d seen so far suggested that alchemy involving power or personal enhancements had significant psychological consequences. It tainted souls as Colina Dove described it.

She stopped several feet away from him and set the box on the ground. She pressed a button on top, and the box reconfigured itself into a spherical shape except it had flat sides like a three-dimensional decagon. It rose from the ground and spun.

“You can’t save him, Jack. No more than you could save my brother. Not that you tried.”

Reginald Finney’s death had nothing to do with Torchwood. He died rescuing people from an embassy. It was possible the historical records were inaccurate. But Jack doubted it. One reaction he’d seen to people finding out about his immortality was the idea that he caused it somehow and could transfer the blessing to other people. Even if could, he wouldn’t. Miracle Day had revealed that horror.

“Whatever you think this is, Rina, it’s not. Ianto’s affinity isn’t transferable.” 

Rina smiled a less than pleasant expression. “His affinity to the ancients isn’t. The key to the gate is transferable.” She waved her hand at the spinning wooden item. 

“Why would he give you anything?”

She laughed. “There is only one thing more important to Ianto Jones than living.”

 

5 

When the blue light cleared, Ianto Jones turned and found Jack on the ground. Energy flowed through him as he looked around. Nothing indicated what happened. Unsure of what to do, he stood back waiting for Jack to return. Minutes passed, and Ianto knew something was wrong. The only time Jack hadn’t immediately regenerated, without severe bodily damage, was after encountering Abbadon. The demon drained his life force and left him seemingly dead for days.

Ianto crouched down and touched the frozen ground. There was more than one energy in the area. Jack had been attacked by a weapon Ianto could sense. Magic or alchemy were the only ideas that came to mind. He could only guess that Jack’s life force had been transferred. That was the basic concept behind Miracle Day.

“What do you want?” Ianto demanded.

“The key!” Rina declared, her voice seemingly transferred on the breeze.

“There is no key.” Although Ianto wondered about the new energy.

A spinning wooden ball appeared in the air near Jack. It seemed to absorb power. The question was how. Jack defeated Abbadon by giving the demon more life force than it could absorb. Except Rina Finney wanted access to Ianto’s new energy. 

It occurred to him that the energy from the hazel grove was not the only option. The area by the fountain had a very different type. Except he had no idea what overloading the device would do. Unsure of which option to chose, Ianto moved forward slowly, grabbed Jack by the shoulders and pulled him into the grove.

The device hit the ground suggesting the trees offered a protective barrier to whatever the wooden ball did.

In his dream, one of the trees uprooted itself. Stepping on the thing appealed, but Ianto didn’t want the device having access to the grove. He wondered what options that left. Then he thought about the blue flame. If it was wooden, and he could produce fire, the thing would burn. Or he hoped it would.

Ianto collected sticks and threw them at the ball from the safety of the trees. Then he focused on the twigs. The ball slightly shifted as if absorbing some of the energy, but the sticks caught fire, and the flame wasn’t blue. 

A scream pierced the air as the device caught fire. It smelled somewhat like sulfur which Ianto hoped he imagined after comparing it to Abbadon. A whoosh of energy rushed toward Jack. After a moment he opened his eyes. The device disintegrated.

“Rina Finney,” Jack mumbled. 

The sound of flapping wings increased. Ianto felt a weight on his shoulder as a large owl appeared. It flew upward, screeching. Moments later, Rina screamed. Ianto closed his eyes as nausea churned in his stomach. That wasn’t just a bird. It was the death omen that once presented itself as a child that spoke only Welsh.

“What happened?”

Ianto helped Jack up. “We need to ask Dmitri about demonic balls?”

Jack chuckled.

Ianto rolled his eyes upward. 

 

Jack Harkness waited in the car, watching Ianto talk with Lacene Harpham through the window. While Rina was dead, the kids weren’t necessarily safe. Ianto drove back for the kids, and they headed for London. With Rina gone, and the ghosts hopefully at rest, that left Mr. Windell. Kinsleigh wouldn’t talk about her father, and Jamie wouldn’t leave her long enough to be asked. Harpham offered one advantage to dropping the kids off directly in Birmingham. If Kinsleigh wanted to file a report, she could. Harpham could handle a complicated jurisdiction issue. If the kids needed protection from Mr. Windell or an ancient, she could take care of it. Harpham had friends in strange places.

Ianto returned to the car. “That woman is terrifying.”

Jack reached for Ianto’s leg as he fastened his seatbelt. “The kids are safe.”

“Yeah. I almost feel sorry for Mr. Windell. I moved to fast, and Kinsleigh flinched. After what Harpham went through at the London sleep center…” Ianto shook his head.

“She might introduce Windell to Icelus.”

“Yeah.”

“Where are we headed?” Jack asked.

“A nice hotel with room service.”

Jack squeezed Ianto’s leg. “That could be fun.”

Ianto started the car. “No more of your psycho exs.”

“Reg was a friend.”

Ianto nodded. “Yeah. Because you were dating his friend Spooky. According to Harpham, he makes her nervous.”

Jack laughed as Ianto drove.

 

“I am the gatekeeper!” - Ghostbusters


End file.
